


Nancy Drew Who?

by Toryb



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: But like future canon in College stuff, Canon Compliant, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas traditions, F/M, Fluff, Secret Santa Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 07:34:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17137652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toryb/pseuds/Toryb
Summary: Jughead wants to make this Christmas Eve special for Betty, but only if he doesn't throw up from nerves first.





	Nancy Drew Who?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [satelliteinasupernova](https://archiveofourown.org/users/satelliteinasupernova/gifts).



> MERRY CHRISTMAS (eve) and HAPPY HOLIDAYS to all! But especially @satelliteinasupernova! I was so excited to get you because you're one of my favorite artists in this fandoms and you're also a spectacular writer. I'm glad your finals went great and thank you for being such a wonderful part of our fandom <3

Jughead might actively start weeping because he finally has not only Christmas off, but Christmas Eve as well, which means he actually gets to spend some time with his girlfriend, huddled up in the warmth of their one bedroom apartment and relax after the hell hole that were this semester's finals. It makes sense. It’s his senior year and he doubled majored in English, with a focus in Creative Writing, and Communications of all things. Betty wasn’t doing much better. In between her shifts waitressing at the local diner and her internships at local media companies they have barely seen each other in a month. The few times they did meet were at the library to study in silence or collapses together in bed when they’re both too tired to actually do anything but hold each other and whisper sweet nothings. Not that he hates that. He does still sort of love that. But it’ll be nice to actually enjoy their Christmas and all the traditions that come with it.

 

There’s really only one he cares about though. It started off as a joke during their senior year of high school, so it’s been four years of their little mystery games. As Veronica likes to say “nothing gets you more hot and bothered like a good mystery” and Christmas is surprisingly worthy of the idea. It’s a game more than anything, a joke in some aspects, to try and guess, sleuth out, deduce, and uncover the top secret present they each got each other is.

 

Betty’s still kind of bitter because she’s lost the last two years. He’s good at keeping a secret and well it’s not exactly his fault that she keeps asking Archie, a boy known for his ineptitude at keeping his mouth shut, and Jellybean, who takes nothing short of delight in teasing her brother, for help. Polly, he’s learned, is surprisingly great at keeping secrets. Maybe it’s the cult thing. Honestly, he’s still not exactly keen on digging into that mystery anymore than was strictly necessary, but at least it gives him in advantage now.

 

This year he’s gotten her something special, something she’ll never see coming, something she’ll never guess and he’s positively delighted imagining her squirming and digging around their room when he’s not home for any clues. He’s not stupid. The thing stays tucked safely in his jacket pocket where no one can get it. Maybe that isn’t the safest thing to do in New York but the things he does for love are limitless. The things he’d do for Betty are limitless--have been since they were children and she asked him to climb up the tree to get her kite. The loud crunch his shoulder had made and the sling that followed were absolutely worth her brief and brilliant smile.

 

It’s Christmas Eve and the house has exploded with color. It’s all Betty’s doing. Jughead likes to pretend to be a Christmas Scrooge given every opportunity, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t honestly delighted in helping decorate the tree to look like a candy cane. The faux white thistles should have been offensive to him, but contracted with the flicker of red lights and little glass baubles he can’t help but smile. Their little apartment feels more like home than any place he’s ever been in before. Especially during the holidays.

 

Halloween might be their favorite. At least, it is for him. They wear obnoxious couple costumes and scare the shit out of the neighbors, not to mention host a kickass murder mystery party every year. Despite everyone’s protests, Jughead knows they all look forward to the annual Night of Horror. Last year Reggie had gone all out for his scheduled disembowelment, buying a few sausage links from the butcher shop for “realism” so he could “haunt” the apartment by hitting people with his meat. They’ve been talking about making it a Christmas tradition too, but this year everyone had been so tied up in other things it just wasn’t feasible.

 

Which is, in Jughead opinion, for the best given how he wants tonight to go. It’s supposed to be sweet, simple, relaxing for the two of them. Betty left him a very explicit recipe on the counter since he had insisted on cooking her dinner. The instructions are step by step, highlighting things he things are basic knowledge, but finds himself tripping over regardless. By six he’s got a ham that looks glazed and a cranberry sauce he sort of wants to just drink from the dish. There’s a warm bubbling of pride as he looks at the spread. 

 

_ Betty’s going to love it. _ He thinks, and he actually believes it.

 

He hears the next door neighbors scream in delight, chasing each other around, their little feet thumping against the floorboards. Deep down he wonders what it would be like to have their own little place filled with that kind of delight. Later. Much later. When he has a job and confidence and a career to support them. Much. Much later. But he thinks he really likes the image of a few little blonde girls and black haired boys having the kind of Christmas he always wanted.

 

Betty stumbles through the door at six-thirty exactly, groaning and kicking off her snow boots. She hangs her scarf on the rack along with her coat before collapsing on the couch with another noise. It sits somewhere between a strangled cry and a tired huff. It makes him laugh to see her this much of a mess. Like many sides of Betty, this is one that’s reserved for him and him alone, much less polished and put together than most of her life. The ribbon tying up her hair--it’s red and green stripped for christmas and has little jingle bells--is falling out of her hair and her elf on the shelf sweater looks like it has paint on it.

 

“How was volunteering with the youths today?” but he knows the answer the second her eyes meet his in a half hearted glare. “Oh that good?”

 

“It was fine. I just ache and I’m so happy to be home. We can spend Christmas cuddled up, phones shut off, just enjoying each other. And I can finally claim my rightful place as ruler of Christmas since I’ve finally figured out what you got me.”

 

His heart does somersaults and he takes a deep breath in. No. No she can’t possibly know because no one but Veronica Lodge knows and she was sworn to secrecy held at butterknife point at breakfast before they went shopping together.

 

But she looks at him with such self assurance that he knows she hasn’t figured it out yet. It’s cute she thinks she has though. “You got me the last of the Nancy Drew books to finish off my collection.”

 

Jughead laughs. “Close but no cigar. I mean yeah that is one of the presents under the tree, way to ruin that  by digging in my amazon search history, but it’s not  _ the _ present. Trust me, you’re not getting it this year Betts. You’ve got...two more hours before we exchange, right. Wanna give it one more go?”

 

“Ugh! This is impossible. I’m Riverdale’s Nancy Drew and I can’t figure it out. How are you so good at this?”

 

“Because I know how your brain works so I know how to bypass it’s logic senses. Speaking of, I know what you got me.”

 

Her eyes narrow. “No. No you don’t. I didn’t tell anyone this time, there is absolutely no way in hell you know. You didn’t cheat and unwrap it did you?”

 

Foul play like that was completely against the rules. You could shake, rattle, roll--unless the gift was breakable, and Betty’s had been one year much to their mutual disappointment upon opening it and seeing the glass rose missing three thorns--but you could not peel back the Christmas packing until the night of the gift exchange. This years’ themed paper was red with little penguins sliding down a snow hill.

 

“You would my honor. No, you see, Betts, I am the master of deduction. All who come close to me pale in comparison. Who even is Sherlock Holmes in the face of Jughead Jones?” He plopped beside her on the couch, pulling her into a tight hug and kissed her forehead.

 

Betty rolled her eyes but snuggled in close, slipping her hands underneath his shirt so he had to feel the cold of her mittenless fingers against his skin as punishment. “You saw me wrapping it didn’t you?”

 

“Learn to close the closet door in the middle of the night, babe, it’ll benefit you next year.”

 

He can tell when Betty leaves the be. It’s like a superpower of his, or maybe it has something to do with the fact that he’s so used to her presence pressed against his side, their limbs tangled into a mass of borderline body horror, that he knows when she’s not there because it’s like an actual physical part of him is missing. She rolls her eyes and swats him before wiggling into his lap.

 

They eat dinner in the living room because fuck propriety and all the rules Alice Cooper tried to instill in her growing up. Jughead is barely using a fork as he scarfs down dinner. Part of it is nerves, part of it is the fact that he’s fucking starving because he’s been cooking instead of eating all day. Once food is eaten and dishes are cleaned it’s time to exchange the presents. Betty’s still pouting as she hands hers over and he unwraps the completed works of Shakespeare he’s been hunting down since the beginning of time.

 

“I love it.” It’s a nice gift, even if it isn’t a surprise.

 

“Mhm. Okay now which one is mine for tonight.” She points at the few gifts labeled ‘Betty’ hidden under the thistle in his horrible handwriting. They like to get each other a few little things. Mostly that’s tradition from Betty, who’s insisted that he deserves to open presents like a gleeful little child since he didn’t get to do it growing up

 

“It’s the one with the blue ribbon under the tree.”

 

He watches her dig around and quickly plops to where he needs to be. His heart rate is going a million miles a minute but he thinks that maybe this is going to be the best Christmas present ever. You know, as long as it all works out well. The blonde ponytail bobs as she pops out from underneath the tree and he can tell she’s frowning as she says, “There isn’t one with a blue ribbon here, Jug. Did you forget it in your drawer again?”

 

“Silly me. It’s been in my hands the whole time.”

 

When she spins around her eyes go wide and she gasps so loud he’s not sure there’s any air left in the room. He can’t blame her though, because he’s down on one knee holding a little box with a little blue ribbon to keep it closed. Jughead offers it up to her with a shaky smile and shakier hands. “Do you want to open it?”

 

Betty’s sobbing as she plucks it from his grasp, unable to do anything but nod over and over again. He hardly believes this moment is real. She pops the lid and starts to cry harder. Before he can even ask the stupid question, she’s sliding on the gold band. Jughead laughs, reaching out and taking her hands, kissing her palms. Knowing that it’s on her hand helps him relax. She wants this. She wants him. Forever.

 

“Betty Cooper, will you marry me?”

 

“Yes.” It’s a barely choked out sob, but she’s flung herself on him and is sobbing into his neck, holding him tight and pressing kisses to every inch of skin she can get. “I love you. I love you I love you I love you.” She chants it like a prayer and to his ears it is.

 

“I love you too, Betts, forever.”

 

Once they’ve settled down and she’s firmly curled up in his lap, sending pictures off to everyone in their hometown group chat so they can ooh and awe over the ring they all helped pick out (it takes a village, right?) they put on Nightmare Before Christmas as is tradition. For the first time that night he sees her frown and his heart knots. Maybe she thinks she made a mistake.

 

“Well...my present sort of sucks in comparison.”

 

Jughead laughs and kisses her softly. “Betty, the best Christmas present of all is that I get to spend it with you.”

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr @tory-b


End file.
